Rachel Gibson - See Jane Score

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked.

He shook his head and his lips brushed the backs of her fingers. “I thought I was. I thought I’d be mad at you forever, but I’m not. I don’t really understand your reasons for sending that column in, but I just don’t care anymore. I think I was more pissed off about feeling like a fool than about the actual column.” He placed her palm on his chest. “When I saw you waiting for me, my anger evaporated and I knew I’d be a bigger fool if I let you go. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know your secrets.”

“I don’t have any more secrets.”

“Are you sure there isn’t at least one?” He wrapped an arm around her back and kissed her neck.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a nymphomaniac?”

“Are you serious?”

“Well… yes.”

Jane shook her head and managed a weak, “No,” before she burst out laughing.

“Shh.” Luc pulled back and looked into her face. “Someone will hear you and bust in on us.”

She couldn’t stop laughing and so he silenced her with his mouth. His lips were warm and welcoming and she slid into the kiss with the abandon of a true nympho. Because sometimes in life, Ken didn’t always choose Barbie. For that, he had to be rewarded.

She Shoots! She Scores!

Luc stepped off the elevator to the observation deck of the Space Needle and looked to his left. A woman in a red dress looked out at the glittering skyline of downtown Seattle. Her hair fell to her shoulders in soft dark curls, and a warm August breeze tossed a few strands about her face. They’d just finished having dinner in the restaurant below, and as he waited for the bill, she slipped away to the upper deck.

As she watched him walk toward her, the corners of her red mouth turned up in a seductive smile.

“Nice night for watching stars,” he said.

She bit her bottom lip, then spoke just above a whisper, “Do you like to watch?”

“I’m more of a doer.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. “And right now, I want to do my wife.”

“That’s not in the script,” Jane said as she rested against him.

They’d been married for five weeks now. Five weeks of waking with her every morning. Of looking at her across their dinner table, and then loading the dishwasher together. Of watching her brush her teeth and pull on her socks. Never in a million years would he have ever thought those mundane, ordinary things could be so sexy.

Most of all, he liked to watch her work. To create all those erotic stories in her head. To look beyond that natural girl face, and see the real woman.

Since their engagement, she no longer wrote about being single in Seattle. And Chris Evans was back from his medical leave, working his sports beat. The Times had let Jane go completely, and now she was the newest sports reporter for their rival, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer .

They’d had to plan the wedding around the Stanley Cup playoffs, and since Luc had been out of town about half the time, Jane and Marie and Caroline had done the planning mostly on their own. Which had been just fine with him. All he’d had to do was show up in a tux and say, “I do.” That part had been easy. Watching her dance with every damn Chinook at the reception had been difficult.

A few months before the wedding, the Chinooks had made it to the finals, but they got beat out for the Cup by the Colorado Avalanche in the third round. Luc lowered his face and buried his nose in Jane’s hair. There was always next year.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked.

They’d spent a lot of time exploring Seattle together. Him and Jane and Marie. Jane knew all the good spots and the places to avoid. “I want to go home,” he said. Marie was spending the night with Hanna, and Luc wanted to take advantage of some time alone with his wife. “What do you say?”

She turned and wrapped her arms around him. “Home is my favorite place.”

Home was his favorite place too. But home for him was anywhere Jane happened to be. Never in his life had he loved someone as much as he loved her. So much that it scared him sometimes.

He pulled her against him and looked out over the city. He was in love with his wife. Yeah, he knew what that said about him. That he was a goner. Leg-shackled for life. Whipped by a short woman with a big attitude.

Yep, that’s what it said about him, and he didn’t care.